


out of the dark

by mwestbelle



Series: truck stop boys [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Sex Work, Violence Against Sex Workers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 14:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13813575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: Steve and Bucky hit the road.





	out of the dark

**Author's Note:**

> The long...maybe awaited, certainly belated follow-up to the truck stop fic.

It’s fine, for a while. Not _good_. They’re still two guys turning tricks at a truck stop, after all. But it’s not a bad life, all things told. Bucky doesn’t feel like he has to watch his back every goddamn second, not when he knows that Steve is there on the lot with him. And they fuck sometimes. Not on any particular schedule or anything, but if one of them is feeling like some recreational action...he knows where to go to find it, that’s all. It doesn’t have to mean anything either with them. Neither of them is going to mistake for sex for anything other than what it is. 

Except one night, a guy gets rough. It seems like your average blowjob until suddenly there’s a hand around Bucky’s throat, clamping down hard on his windpipe. Bucky chokes, splutters for breath, but the guy has his other hand holding tight to his hair, and he can’t get away. It isn’t the first time a guy has gotten nasty with him, but it doesn’t get any easier, doesn’t get any less terrifying.

His vision starts to blur, and then suddenly he can breathe again. His lungs ache as he heaves in a breath, and his head is still swimming as he looks up and sees Steve and thinks fuck.

Steve is big and strong, and Bucky’s seen him loom like nobody’s business, but he’s never seen him like this. He’s faster than you’d think, and by the time Bucky is back on his feet, the guy is on the ground with Steve kneeling over him, pounding his face into the asphalt.

“Steve, shit.” Bucky darts in and grabs Steve by the collar of shirt. The thin cotton bunches easily in his fist, and Steve’s panting when he sits back on his heels. His knuckles are bloody. The guy’s face...it’s pretty fucking bloody too, and Bucky’s stomach drops out. “We have to go.”

They don’t talk about it. Steve lets Bucky tug him away, scrambling across cracked gravel, out of the all-seeing halo of fluorescent lights into the dark edges of the parking lot. They only separate long enough for Steve to grab his stash from wherever it is he hides it. Bucky’s rusty old junker wheezes to life as he turns the ignition and rumbles alarmingly as he floors the gas, just barely getting up to speed to merge onto the highway.

Bucky clenches his hands around the steering wheel to stop them from shaking. Steve is silent beside him. When Bucky glances over to turn on the radio, he notices a few drops of blood splattered on Steve’s tight, white shirt. After that, he keeps his eyes on the road.

It’s almost dawn, Fleetwood Mac just barely making it through the static as they drive through the no man’s land between radio stations, when Steve finally speaks.

“You didn’t have to leave.”

Bucky laughs. It sounds kind of croaky and strained, but damn if he can hold it back. “Jesus Christ, Steve.”

Steve lets out this long sigh, and says, “Yeah. I guess that was a stupid thing to say.”

They both start laughing, hard enough that Bucky takes the next exit. He pulls into a gas station and grabs Steve, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that says all the things that words can’t, somehow bruising and heartbreakingly tender all at the same time. From the way Steve groans into it, Bucky is pretty sure he gets the message.

Bucky stays outside, filling up the car, while Steve goes inside for supplies. When he emerges, he’s traded out his skin-tight shirt for a baggy grey number with the Coast Guard logo emblazoned across the chest and a pair of mirrored aviators. He looks like a college kid stopping for snacks on a road trip, and Bucky’s heart does some complicated acrobatics inside his chest. They can’t be more than a year or two apart in age, and seeing Steve like this...it’s been a long time since Bucky thought of himself as young. He feels ancient, most of the time.

Steve offers to take a turn driving, but Bucky waves him off. Being behind the wheel is one of the few times that he’s always felt in control of his life, even when he doesn’t know where the hell he’s going. This is the first time that someone else has been along for the ride, and he finds that he likes it. He likes Steve singing along with the radio, his voice low and rich and unstudied; Steve reaching over to feed him Cheetos from the bag and to unscrew a water bottle so Bucky doesn’t have to drive with his knees; Steve looking like a golden gift from the gods when Bucky sneaks a look over at him as the sun sets.

For a few days, it feels like they could keep driving forever. Bucky fantasizes about it, only stopping long enough to gas up the car or catch a few hours of sleep curled up in his cramped backseat. If they get far enough out west, they can sleep on the ground under clear black skies filled with stars. If they never stop, nothing can ever catch them.

“We should find a spot,” Steve says one night. Bucky’s on top of him, both of them crammed into that flimsy sleeping bag. His cheek is pressed against Steve’s broad chest. He feels Steve’s voice rumble through his brain. “If we run out of cash, we’ll get stuck wherever we land. At least now we can still choose.”

It’s the last thing Bucky wants. “Yeah,” he says, eyes closed. “We’ll start looking tomorrow.”

Bucky keeps his focus on the road while Steve fiddles with his old CB radio, listening to a stream of random, staticky chatter, looking for the raunchy come-ons that are like a beacon for their kind. He drives where Steve tells him to, cruising through stops, occasionally stopping to fill up the car while Steve gets the lay of the land.

They end up stopping at a lot that’s pretty much strictly female, as far as Steve can discern. It’s not dark yet, so they won’t really know if there’s any market for them here for another few hours. Bucky slips away while Steve’s still making nice with the locals, crossing over a strip of mostly dead grass to the next parking lot over, which belongs to a diner that appears to be called, simply, “Mama’s.”

An honest to god bell jingles when Bucky pushes the door open. The place is pretty hopping, but there’s still a good selection of pies in the case at front, spinning slowly like fine jewels on display. He showered last night at a stop Steve deemed too crowded, so he’s feeling like he passes well enough as a real live human boy to approach the counter with a sunny smile.

“Well hey there, sugar.” The woman behind the counter has a nametag that says Billie and a wispy bouffant that resembles orange cotton candy more than anything else. “What can I get you?”

“Pie and coffee, please.” Bucky slips onto a stool. The smile comes naturally; after all, he was charming, once. It matters less than you’d think in his line of work, but he has the sudden urge to reassure himself that he’s still got it. That someone besides Steve still thinks he’s more than a hot hole. 

So he keeps smiling. He says _please_ and _thank you, ma’am_ , and he flirts outrageously with Billie every time she comes back to refill his coffee until she’s roaring with laughter. When the customers on either side of him have left, Billie comes back and leans against the counter, looking at him over the chunky purple frames of her glasses.

“You sticking around for a while, honey, or just passing through?”

Bucky takes a sip of coffee and wonders how things are going with Steve. “Not sure yet.”

Billie hums. “I don’t mean to pry, of course, it’s only that we’re hiring.”

That wasn’t what Bucky expected. He clears his throat and sets his mug down with a soft clink. “You’re...what?”

“Lost of one my best servers last month. Husband went and got himself reassigned.” Billie shrugs one shoulder, all casual, but her dark eyes are sharp. “And old ladies like to be flirted with just as much as the men.” She holds up her hand when he starts to open his mouth. “Don’t you dare say that I’m not old. First rule of working here is you point that sparkly mug of yours at the customers, not at me.”

Bucky’s mouth is dry. “Let me run it past my, uh--” There’s no point in trying to hide it, though it sounds bizarre in any case.. “My boyfriend? See if we’re staying?”

Billie just nods, and when she brings him his check, there’s a takeout box underneath it with another slice of pie that isn’t on the bill. Bucky clutches the box to his chest like a talisman as he walks back across the lot. He remembers asking Steve, after that first time, if he ever thought about getting out of the game. But he’s kept his head down for so long, just pushing through, that he hadn’t really ever stopped to think about it actually happening. That it could be this easy to say goodbye to stranger’s skin and scuffed up knees.

Steve’s leaning against the hood of the car. Before all of this, Bucky never really realized how beautiful Steve looks in the daylight. From the first rays of dawn shining in through the rear window to the golden glow of noon giving Steve an uneven tan on his right side where he’s always got his arm hooked around the outside of the passenger door, he was made for sunshine. Bucky’s not so sure he can say the same for himself, but with Steve at his side...he thinks there might be a way out of the dark for both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr!](http://villainsexuale.tumblr.com)


End file.
